Machine Capable of Sympathy
by HelenaLevi
Summary: If Keith Howard was the closest thing Ghost Kotsuzuka had to a father, Keith would admit to himself that a) he was a terrible, but proud father figure and b) Kotsuzuka was the closest thing he would ever have to a son.


I originally picked him off the streets for the sake of irony. After all, Pegasus had chosen a child to humiliate me and beat my ass into the ground, so it would be damn appropriate if I did the same to him. The only problems I anticipated were that I hated kids and there was no way I could teach one to be any good at Duel Monsters within a few months. Not to mention that that kid- Ghost Kotsuzuka- seemed more likely to be a bad choice. He was homeless, probably malnourished and had nothing in the way of a backbone. That hideously dead-looking face didn't help.

Still, I guess I appreciated that he recognized me and looked up to me. He'd lit up when he realized who I was. That hadn't happened in long enough that I guess I decided to give him a chance. Worst case scenario, I kick him out and he walks away to go find a new idol. No big deal.

Then it turned out that the ugly little shit was a goddamn prodigy. Within a few weeks he learned how to put up a fight, and when my plan brought in two other homeless pricks he kicked their asses. Granted, outside of practice he still needed my direction, but he was well on his way to getting on his own two feet. So maybe instead of finding some other washed-up idiot to follow he'd carve his own path. That'd be pretty damn inspirational if I were still even able to find inspiration in anything.

It wasn't even dueling skill that he got from me either. He grew a spine when the other two got in the picture- they'd started bullying him, but he didn't take that shit. He'd let them laugh it out for a few minutes, then turn the whole thing to put them down. Over time he got more and more clever about it. The most notable time was probably when, in response to being called ugly by Satake for the trillionth time, he said, "I look better than you duel". The look on the guy's face was priceless.

He turned out to be my favorite of the three. The fact of his age was a handicap for most, but it somehow made him a little more impressive than most homeless kids. He really might've had a shot.

Kotsuzuka did still piss me off sometimes. He'd started doubting me, asking too many questions. He started coming up with strategies of his own despite my instructions, and getting less and less willing to follow them. Bringing him to his feet had some consequences. With enough of a push, he still listened to me; he was still loyal, but that was likely to change. Or... so I thought, I guess.

Thinking back on what I did in Duelist Kingdom, I don't regret it. I almost do. I smashed my moral compass, threw it into a volcano and nuked it long before then, though. There are a few details that stick out to me, though- the shock on Kotsuzuka's and Takaido's faces when I knocked out Satake. At least half of it was probably because Satake was the physically (and mentally) strongest of them, and was skilled enough in a fistfight to nearly take me down. The other was the betrayal. The kid, though... I didn't expect him to be that surprised. He still believed in me after all. ...Until I near-damn broke every bone in his body.

I didn't even waste too much time beating the crap out of him, which was either some form of mercy or just because I only needed to reduce him to the same state as the other two which wouldn't take nearly as many hits. I'm pretty sure it's the latter.

The other detail is after the fact, just as I was walking away, I faintly heard him start to cry. With each step I took it faded, only getting quieter. Somehow that seems worse than if he were to be loud about it. A silent cry was probably more heartbreaking, especially from a kid who likely already knew pain worse than what I dealt. Or maybe not.

I'm not saying I ever cared about the kid. I was his boss, not his father. I don't think I'm capable of that. But at the same time, there's pride in how I taught him, that if he survives out in that shitty world I'm the reason why. Even if I hated the kid, I'm probably the only adult role model he's ever actually had.

He and I have a bit in common. Machines and the undead are similar- we work, we get shit done and we get it done right, but without what we need (respect in both our cases) we just fall apart. At the same time, though, too many differences. I remember looking him in those dark, wide eyes and seeing hope, admiration, trust. I don't even know what that shit means, really, and when I look in the mirror I see a dead thing with jammed gears and stained with rust. Maybe I only noticed because I'm the only who even can look that kid in the eye without cringing. Even from the start, when I walked into that alleyway and knelt down, even if his face was freaky as all hell I didn't give a rat's ass. (Maybe that's why I don't cringe; other people have the capacity to actually feel sorry for him that he has to live looking the way he does.) Yet, despite it all, a face that was basically pale skin stretched over a small skull was able to show that he could still trust something or someone. Unfortunately for him, that ended up being me.

That boy isn't my responsibility. I don't miss having him around.

But I was his hero, and tearing the poor kid's heart in half is another reason why I'm going to Hell.


End file.
